was that while our waders were drying out in the garage, and we were huddled indoors through three significant snowstorms, word would arrive that a little feller was on his way. When spring finally relieved our driveway of a mountain of crusty, blackened "snow," we left the gear hybernating. For this time we weren't being mentored on high-sticking through a narrow, rocky gorge, but rather knee-deep in trench warfare with equaling confusing tasks -- like how to change a diaper without needing to shower afterwards. A few weeks after D arrived, B looked at me through blood-shot, sleep-deprived eyes and gently asked if he could go the river. I knew he needed it. Frankly, I needed it, but there was no way I was up for braving bugs, foilage, tricky wading conditions and casting with our new bundle strapped to my chest.....yet :).
The next weekend in what was now early summer, B woke up (technically he was probably never asleep) before roosters even crow, snuck downstairs in his crinkly fishing clothes and drove west. Several feedings later, when he returned, I wasn't nearly as supportive and chipper as I was hoping to be. Unfortunately his battles with Brook trout weren't able to revive me vicariously. But I did my best to work up a smile and even though we both saw through my poorly disguised smoke and mirrors, B seemed grateful none-the-less.
Just a few short weeks after that, before D was even two months old, I decided the walls of our home were starting to talk to me...and I caught myself talking back. Mid-week I declared Saturday to be "go time" and we prepped accordingly for our first outting with D.
The adventure brought smiles and sighs desperately needed and when all was said and done, D and I caught our first fish together. He was a trooper and slept most of the time. While exhausted later, B and I couldn't help but feel something click into place that had been out of sync. Did we actually think fishing had become so necessary, vital, that we felt out-of-balance when unable to do it? Not exactly. What we did realize was that drinking in God's creation, having adventures together, and getting out of the hustle and bustle in favor of a quieter, gentler speed was now woven into our fibers. Had D arrived two years before, we may have run to a movie at the first chance. Now we could feel in our right hands the beautifully balanced weight of a rod, the pull of the line through our fingers as we stripped it moments after a cast, the thrill of setting the hook just so, and catching a first glimpse of brown speckled spots or dazzling pink lines....
This whole tale began with B's Christmas list this year and a smile. I shared how I had observed the tranformative powers of a sport, a pasttime, an obsession, in the lives of three men I love. What I didn't see coming in those early lines was the realization that the river has transformed me as well. It's infused my marriage with new life, introduced me to the spiritual possibilities of meeting God in His own backyard, granted me the chance to commune with my family on what was formerly a battleground, and even proved to be the stage on which I got to know my dear new sister-in-law.
Lastly, it's already set into motion a lifetime of memories to be made with my son. We caught our first fish together when he was six weeks old. I look forward to the time when he'll be the one holding it up for the camera :).
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